tip toeing down the stairs one cold
morning
up at 6 unable to sleep
because of the emotional
domestic
turmoil i was in.
living with a mistake.
a lie,
a loser.
but i was careful to be quiet
as to not awaken
the beast
still in bed,
her phone curled in her hand.
i put a dish in the
sink.
boiled some water,
then heard her feet hit the floor
as she bound down
the stairs.
how dare you wake me up
at this hour, she said.
the nerve of you.
we're done.
that's it. we're done.
her eyes were black, her hair
wild,
the bones of her rattled
in the cold shadows
of morning.
soon, i hope. soon.
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